


Oblivious.

by cyrusbarrone



Category: MCR - Fandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Funny, M/M, Office, Slash, um
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 04:29:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyrusbarrone/pseuds/cyrusbarrone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On his first day he’d pushed his little mail trolley along the corridor, and pushed its rickety frame into their floor. He’d had this nervous smile on his face, and one of the girls had elbowed me in the ribs and commented on how she wanted to lick his face, before striding over to him. Someone thinks his name is Frankenstein. And overall, he is deeply oblivious to pretty much everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oblivious.

There was a new guy at work. Normally this wouldn’t be that exciting, because there are always new guys at work, but this one was different. Different as in, he was actually attractive and not repulsive like all the other ones seemed to be. He was kind of young and a little short with this dark hair and dark eyes and this smile that practically split his face in two and his laugh was kind of adorable. So, because he was so utterly adorable and gorgeous compared to all the other males in office, it meant that he attracted an awful lot of attention from the women in the office.  
A lot of the women were older than him- and a lot of them apparently liked younger men- and leant close to him as he sorted out their mail with that face-splitting smile.

On his first day he’d pushed his little mail trolley along the corridor, and pushed its rickety frame into their floor. He’d had this nervous smile on his face, and one of the girls had elbowed me in the ribs and commented on how she wanted to lick his face, before striding over to him. She usually tripped up in her heels, but that time, for some reason, she walked flawlessly and beamed when she got to the cart. Maybe from pride of not falling over or maybe it was the fact that she was the first to the new guy.

“I’m Margaret,” she smiled, introducing herself. “Single,” she adds as an afterthought with an inviting grin.

The new guy looked up and smiled brightly, like I said already, he has this really pretty smile and these dimples all show up on his face. He doesn’t look so nervous anymore, now that someone’s spoke to him. “I’m Frank!” he beamed, sticking his hand out and shaking her hand with too much vigour and enthusiasm. I don’t think he caught the part where she said her relationship status. Or maybe he was ignoring it, I don’t know.

I could see that Margaret was trying not to jump his damn bones and I smothered my face with my hand to cover up my amusement.

“Frank—like Frankenstein?” piped up one of the more Ditzy girls, Ellen something. She thought about what she said, and realizing that it was kind of insulting, went to take it back but the new guy- not Frankenstein- was all smiles and dimples again. Did this guy ever not smile?

“No,” he giggles. A fucking giggle (it was kind of adorable). “My dad’s name—but Frankenstein would have been way cooler!” and with that the office’s new ray of sunshine skitters off, only some jittery girls and envelopes to show that he wasn’t made up. Or maybe he was and this was just some really well made up land of fake. Huh.

“Dibs!” cries one girl from where she was mopping up coffee from her desk- maybe she spilt it because of this new mail guy, who knows. I mean, if I had a coffee I might have spilt it. But then I probably wouldn’t have. I don’t know.

She gets a glare from practically the whole group, and Margaret pipes up—“You can’t dibs someone, Jane, we’re not in primary school anymore!”

“What about you, then? ‘Single’, what the hell was that?” Ellen added with a glare through her lashes, her eyebrows raised up onto her forehead. Watching the group was like watching a tennis match, lots of head turning and getting very, very bored.

“Just wanted him to know that I was. More likely to go for me and not a ditz like you, Ellen,” replied Margaret haughtily, sending a look over to Ellen which was kind of a glare and this guilty look because they always argued over guys and someone always got insulted.

Ellen goes to fight back- probably to say that Margaret looked desperate (she was the poster child for desperate) when our boss pokes his head through the door and glares with these beady eyes—“Get back to work ladies,” he says, all nasally voice and all.  
Jane, Margaret and Ellen all huff, but go back to their computers, anyway.

-

Frank comes by the every morning, and today he’s wearing a black button-up shirt with a red tie that hangs down and goes a little past where his belly button is. He has makeup on under his eyes and there’s a loop of metal in his nose. I don’t think he’s allowed piercings here—I don’t understand that rule, we work at a damn editorial, why the fuck does it matter—but I guess that he’ll find that out later. He looks cute, though.

“Morning!” Margaret chimed, as always. She stands up. She’s wearing a black dress that ends at her knees and her legs run down to these red high heels that make her look like a hooker. Make her legs look good, too.

Red-rimmed eyes look up, and that splitting smile is there again. “Hi,” he says back, ducking his head and filing through the letters and notices to find ones for the right people on our floor. I think that Margaret’s wasting her time on him, he doesn’t seem to pay attention to her, just focussed on the letters and not the five foot something woman in front of him.

“I have Frankenstein for you,” piped up Ellen, hopping up- not tripping- and picking up a DVD from where it sat on her desk. It looks like she brought it brand new a couple of hours ago, she probably did, I knew for a fact that she didn’t actually enjoy horror films and would certainly not choose to watch something like Frankenstein. Trust me, I’d tried plenty of times to get her to come and watch all the classics with me.

Frank looks up at the brunette walking over to him; she’s wearing jeans and his button-up shirt that’s all flowy and pirate-esque. He smiles brightly at her but doesn’t take it as she waved it by his hands. Huh, he wears nail varnish. “Thank you—but I already have it. Um, my friend bought it for me a couple of years ago?” he says and he looks so guilty that he can’t take the film to watch, and he lets out a nervous laugh. His laugh is cute.

Ellen looks like a sad puppy for a few seconds before smiling brightly. “Oh, good—it is such a good film, isn’t it?” like she’d know that.

And he grinned and nodded his head, hands picking up a couple of letters. He speaks to her as he walks to me to give me my post. “Yeah, it’s awesome- proper classic, y’know?” I don’t think she cares; I think she’s staring at his arse as he leans over my desk to pass me my letters. I smile at him and say a thank you, like I always do. And like he always does he glances over my desk, takes in all the concert tickets I’ve stuck up and the little doodles, the photographs of me and bands and film posters. And like always he doesn’t say anything, just a smile breaks onto his face and I wonder if he just doesn’t want to speak to me or if he’s shy. I don’t think it’s the second one.

Then he turns around and raises an eyebrow at Ellen because she’s kind of tranced by his ass, and hasn’t given a reply. She smiles a little hurriedly. “Yeah! Like---“ she looks at me helplessly, she doesn’t fucking know horror films and I won’t help her- “Grease!” I face palm. The only thing horrific in Grease is the singing.

Frank looks a little surprised at the answer but laughs along, thinking that she’s joking because nobody can be that stupid, or that clueless if they own Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. “Um—sure,” he smiled, he’s too nice. He passes around the other envelopes while Ellen goes and feels accomplished by her desk. Idiot.

-

Its a few weeks in to Frank being a proper worker here, and the girls are still trying to find ways to impress him. For example Margaret made me give her my Slipknot t-shirt (even though she stated to me earlier that she hates them, and that they’re frankly terrifying) because she found out that Frank likes Slipknot so therefore she must pull out all the stops, even if she has to wear a nightmare on a shirt—her words, not mine.

I think he’s pretty fucking oblivious because the girls are making themselves clear enough that they want him to fuck them against a damn wall- Jane wants him to take her on her desk, which gross. What I like best, though, is when he asks them about seeing Slipknot or about their favourite horror films because they go all flimsy and clueless.

Hell, once Jane nearly jumped out of her skin (I swear she nearly pissed herself) when her computer started up and there was a picture of Pinhead as the screensaver, thanks to me. God I’d gotten the dirtiest of looks, but hey, Frank had thought she was awesome because of it. And wasn’t that fucking great?

Ellen had tried again, this time trying to relate to him on the fact that she had a tattoo, too. Now Frank had these sleeves up his arms and there was one on his neck and probably a ton more under his shirt that we couldn’t see. Ellen, however, had a butterfly on her ankle and one that said hope in this scrawl underneath it. It was funny to watch Frank put on this enthusiasm for it even if he probably hated it. It had made Ellen happy and later she’d told me that the tattoo was a fake one.

-

It was a couple of months into Frank’s time being at this place, which meant that not only were the ladies desperate for some sex, and he was fucking oblivious, it also meant that the works annual ‘do’ was soon and that was always something to look for (note the sarcasm).

The ball was something chosen to do by the assistant boss, because apparently we needed more opportunities to be pretty and sparkly and all that jazz. The ball was also a time where you could bring your family to work, which was always interesting, because some people bought their kids- I did- and some people had these gorgeous husbands and all the singles turned into jealous and sour bitches because of it.

Frank was going to the ball, and this was the ladies’ time to shine. Put on their best lipstick and find their best dresses which showed off enough leg to suggest they want him, but not enough to look downright needy.

It was also an opportunity to freak out the office, which was what I  
tried to do on a regular basis.

-

The ball is held in some hall just down the road from the tower block that our office is in, and it’s nice, I guess. The floor is wooden slats and there’s banners of ribbons along the walls, a table of drinks, and a DJ booth which is playing a never ending stream of crap. There’s a table of food, which is all picky food and not actually good. Some of its made by hand and some most of it is brought in from the store down the road.

I’m wearing what I always wear to these things, a dress which is this tan colour, that hits my knees and has these black skulls printed onto it. Ripped tights and converse, and my hand latched onto that of my son who is far too excited for this work do.

Margaret has this red dress on and her bright orange hair in a pile on her head, and she has a mask for no reason. Ellen is wearing this blue dress and her brown hair down and Jane is in this yellow disaster or a dress and all of them are looking at the door, waiting for Frank.

I’m sitting on the floor with crayons- yes, I brought crayons- a colouring book, and my son between my legs, when Frank does show up. He looks good, but that was to be expected. He’s got his black shirt, red tie, black blazer and jeans and converse and he looks gorgeous and this beaming smile is on his face. The ladies go to scurry to him, to push their bosoms into his face but there’s someone holding his hand, and it’s not a girls’ hand. The owner of this hand is taller than Frank, he has these kind of defined cheekbones and really white skin. His hair is a shock of bright red- his roots are dark- and he’s wearing about the same as Frank and he looks awkward as fuck, and his hand is pretty clamped onto Frank’s.

I smirk to myself, and wait for the ladies to realize that Frank has a bloke. I wonder how they’d react. I look back up and Frank’s speaking to the red hair guy, who nods and walks off to the drinks table and I glance as Frank makes his way over to me which is weird because we don’t talk.

“Hey,” he grinned, sitting next to me. He glances down at my son colouring, and his grin turns up a few notches. “Cute kid,” he comments.

Cas- my son- looks up and scrunches his face up. “I’m not cute—I’m manly as Hell,” he objects before going back to colouring with his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. I laugh to myself- ignoring that he used a ‘bad’ word- and shrug as Frank gives me an amused look.

“’S alright if I hide here with you?” Frank asks, shuffling on his butt to sit against the wall with me. I shrug, he’s a cool guy, why would I care. “Don’t want Margaret and that to come over and harass me. They’re kind of persistent, y’know?” I know. “You know Ellen’s tattoo isn’t real?” yes, I do. “Cool.”

We sit and talk for a bit, and I ponder on the idea that maybe red-head guy has got lost at the drinks table, or maybe jumped by one of the girls. But he hasn’t because they’re walking over with these smiles and I realize that they don’t know about the fact that Frank is a raging homo and I smother my laughter in my hands which gets me this weird look from the three.

“Hey Frankie,” beamed Jane, and she seems to consider sitting on the floor with him, but decides against it. “You look gorgeous tonight.” And there’s the underlying ‘please sleep with me’ plead in there somewhere.

Margaret stares at her with wide eyes because none of them have ever been this forward with poor Frank before and it’s obvious that Jane is trying to get in his pants. Frank simply looks confused but manages a thank you, though it’s underlying with confusion. Why is a girl calling him gorgeous?

“I think you look hot,” pipes up Margaret, trying to win back the medal.

I press my face against Cas’ back to stop my laughing. God, if only they knew.

“I want to ravish you,” is what Ellen wants to say- I can hear the ‘ra’ coming but then there’s a head of bright red hair sliding down the wall next to Frank. Three wineglasses- one has water in- are placed on the floor, one gets slid over to me which is surprising but I smile and say a happy thank you, one is taken by Frank, while the water is taken by his red headed partner who leans in and presses a kiss against Frank’s mouth. And it’s not a first kiss, definitely not. The way that Frank’s hand is in the mess of red, the way that mystery guy has his hand tucked against Frank’s waist and just… how they’re kissing. It’s like they’ve been doing it forever.

I watch as Margaret, Ellen and Jane all realize that Frank isn’t single, and isn’t single because he’s with a guy. I can practically hear their jaws dropping.

“He does look gorgeous,” agrees the red-haired guy as they pull back from the kiss, a line of spit connecting their lips. It breaks when he speaks, and he looks up with this raised eyebrow, as if challenging the women. “I’m Gerard,” he introduces, giving them a smile- I think it’s false. “Frank’s fiancé.”

They look like fucking fish and I want to high five this guy, because he’s basically just punched them in the face with just those words. I lean over with my hand stuck out, and introduce myself with a happy smile, and introduce my son, who only glances up for a few seconds before going back to colouring in the wooden floor.  
Frank looks happier here, pressed up against Gerard’s side. And they fit together, as if they were meant to be like this and I think they were.

“Uh- um.. I’m Margaret,” she introduced awkwardly, eyes wide as if this was fascinating, that Frank was with a guy. She’d been wanting a taken guy.

“Um, Ellen.”

“… Jane.”

Then Margaret narrows her eyes, staring at Frank’s hand that’s holding the stem of his wineglass. “You’re not wearing a ring.”  
Gerard tucks his hand a little more against Frank’s waist and his lips drag over a cheekbone, and he says something against Frank’s ear which causes the smaller to smile to himself. He looks up and shrugs his shoulders. “Too expensive.”

“Oh,” and then they’re gone and Frank simply looks confused, which is adorable as hell because I think even Gerard understands. I hook my hands under my sons arms and pull him back further into my lap, though he decides that Frank’s looks a helluva lot more comfortable, and climbed there instead, cuddling up in a sleeping position.

I go to take him back, but Frank has his arms curled around the tiny body of Cas and Gerard’s watching with this fond smile.

“I don’t understand,” Frank admits, looking over to me helplessly as he stroke’s Cas’ hair with big hands.

I glance at Gerard and he shrugs a little, slumping slightly and leaning his head up against Frank’s shoulder, holding his hand up and watching Cas grab at his fingers. I wonder if they want kids. They’d be adorable fathers. I’m getting distracted. I explain what the ladies all thought while Cas sleeps and Frank looks more shocked as I explain.

“Do I apologise?” he asked I laughed, telling him no.

Margaret’s already all over the printing tech from downstairs, Ellen and Jane are already sulking in the loos.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! first Frerard done and written. I quite like this. The idea is kind of based from an episode of The Rules of Engagement, though extremely loosely.
> 
> Please tell me what you think of it, I'd love your feedback!


End file.
